


Leave the Lights On

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 06:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19435759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Michael’s had his share of bad luck but his crappy little car dying on him in the middle of the night with a storm about to hit is a new low.





	Leave the Lights On

**Author's Note:**

> IDK, romcom shenanigans with possible vampires???
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Michael’s had his share of bad luck but his crappy little car dying on him in the middle of the night with a storm about to hit is a new low.

To make matters better his phone died an hour ago thanks to a faulty charging cable he hadn’t replaced yet. Thought he could get a few more hours of it, long enough to get home and jury-rig something until he could, but then his boss had thrown extra orders at him and it had slipped his mind.

His car’s been limping along on its spare tire for over a week now while he pulled extra shifts to afford a replacement, and everything is terrible.

Goddamned miserable, because on top of everything else he’s starving and his car still smells like the pizzas he delivered earlier. Shitty job he took to pay the bills until he finds something better in this shitty town and - 

There’s a sudden flash of lightning tearing through the night sky followed by a bone-rattling roll of thunder somewhere ahead of him. Storm rolling in like the meteorologists forecast and goddamn does he not want to be here for it.

“Fucking _hell_.”

He should just stick the oncoming storm out in his car, not risk getting lost in the dark and cold like a moron, _but_.

There’s a creek about a hundred yards away and the news was all over flooding concerns in the area with the storm coming in. Absolutely could not shut up about it, and as much fun as being swept away in the dark sounds, Michael would like _not_ to add that to his list of life experiences, thanks.

And...he isn’t in the boonies out here, okay. There are houses around, even if they’re a little spread out. 

Big sprawling things, old money and all that. Some have fallen into disrepair and neglect over the years, but the whole reason he’s out this way is one of the pizza shop’s regulars.

Odd guy who always has Michael leave his order at the door, but he tips well enough that Michael stopped thinking about it a while back. (God knows he’d hate to see his ugly mug in the middle of the night just to get his food.)

Well.

Alright, sort of.

Look, the guy lives way out here in a house – mansion – that looks like it should be in an old Gothic noir film. And as often as Michael delivers pizzas to his house he’s never seen his face. 

When Michael first started working at the pizza shop his coworkers loved to spin their little theories and share stories about whoever lived out here being fucking vampires or some other horror movie monsters. Well, that or some reclusive serial killers because why not try to freak out the new guy?

Another flash of lightning and angry rumble of thunder have Michael making what’s sure to be another terrible decision in a long line of them. Gathering what he doesn’t want to leave behind in case his car gets swept away or someone comes along and thinks it looks like a tempting target.

His phone, though fat lot of good it’ll do him. The empty delivery bags because his boss will take it out of his paycheck if he loses them. Random shit he should have taken up to his apartment a long time ago but just didn’t get around to because procrastination.

Michael locks his car up and pulls the hood of his hoodie up and starts on the half mile (give or take) walk back to his regular’s house. If he’s lucky he’ll get there before the storm hits.

========

Michael’s luck is _shit_.

The sky opens up when he’s long past the point of no return. No other choice but to push on until he hits the house or find a comfortable ditch to die in like the idiot he is, so he pushes on.

Soaked through in minutes and there’s no way his phone will work after this, so might as well add that to his list of reasons why being an adult sucks ass.

But hey, he’s probably going to die out here and get eaten by fucking coyotes or something, so there’s that.

========

By the time he reaches the guy’s house, Michael’s freezing.

Can barely feel his fingers and his feet went the same way a while back. Heavy and clumsy and he’s an even bigger idiot than Gavin which is saying something.

Maybe not on the edge of getting frostbite or whatever, but he’s not doing great either. Cold and wet and miserable and hating every moment. The sight of the house (mansion) looming out of the dark like something in a Gothic movie is welcoming rather than borderline unsettling.

So.

Michael's probably fried the last of his functioning brain cells in his trek of stupidity. (Frozen them? Something.)

He takes far too long to ring the fucking doorbell, with his hands being uncooperative as shit and he misses a few times.

And then it’s a waiting game. Michael eyeing the doorbell and wondering if he should follow Gavin’s example and spam the fucking thing because God knows most people are asleep by now, but - 

The door is wrenched open and Michael blinks up at an annoyed looking guy.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Floppy hair – look, Michael’s brain is frozen and the guy's hair does this...thing.

Incredibly blue eyes and these lips, okay. These lips that are...moving?

Because talking, and it takes Michael a few moments to realize it through the cold and numb and the pounding rain. (Also, Michael’s dumb, dumb brain.)

“Shit, fuck,” he says, tries to wave his hands in apology because Michael's a goddamn mess. “Uh, sorry to bother you but my car died and I didn't want to drown.”

The lips stop moving, and the guy goes from being annoyed to alarmed to concerned in moments, almost too fast for Michael’s muddled mind to keep track of.

But that’s fine, because the guy’s attention drops to the delivery bags Michael shoved down the front of his hoodie when he almost dropped them some time back. Fingers too cold and stiff to hold on to them any longer.

Michael tries to explain he’s the worst kind of idiot, but the guy hisses in sudden realization – Michael must look worse off than he thought – and reaches out to drag Michael inside.

========

The guy’s got a nice voice, all rich and deep and Michael’s never thought of himself as someone who had a thing for voices, so there’s that to deal with now too.

Could be lingering effects of frozen brain syndrome, or maybe Michael’s just real dumb, whichever.

The guy bundles Michael off to this ridiculously huge bathroom, shoves a change of clothes at him - 

“They’re clean, I promise, just please don’t freeze to death on me, the lawyers would have a fit.”

\- and leaves him to shower and change in peace.

Tells him where the laundry room is so he can put his clothes in to wash while they wait out the storm before he fucks off to make coffee or whatever he’s babbling about.

Michael doesn’t know what the thing with the lawyers is about, but hey. Problem to puzzle out later, if he doesn’t get himself horribly murdered first.

And, okay.

The guy probably isn’t some creature of the night or serial killer, based on how awkward he is, about Michael barging in on him like this. All fluttery hands and _oh shit_ and _what do I do to not have this idiot die on me_ and _what is going on???_

The clothes he handed Michael aren’t from one of those old movies Michael’s been subjected to thanks to family members and various other assholes in his life. No unbearable amounts of lace and other finery to fit the setting. Just a pair of sweats, soft and warm and these amazing socks that make his toes super happy, but whatever.

Michael takes a long shower, lets the hot water thaw him out as much as it can, chase the chill that seems to have sunk into his bones away and leaving him feeling more like a real human boy again.

There are huge, fluffy towels set out for him and he hums a little as he dries off, taking care to get as much water out of his hair as he can. 

He’s sure to get a cold out of this mess. Can feel the back of his throat acting up, body feeling tired and sluggish and just overall shittier than usual, but he’s got his mom’s lectures about that shit in the back of his head and it can’t hurt, right?

There aren’t any mirrors in the bathroom, which is a little odd but not alarmingly so. Some people just don’t like having the damn things around, nothing all that strange when it comes down to it. Michael runs his fingers through his hair and leaves it at that because fuck if it ever does what he wants anyway. 

When he feels he’s somewhat presentable and mostly thawed, Michael ventures out of the bathroom and gets his first real look at the place.

Definitely perfect for some old timey movie. All antique furniture and shit, but there are modern day touches tossed in here and there. Security system of some sort, which makes sense because everything here looks expensive as shit.

No decorative mirrors or reflective surfaces he can see aside from the windows he passes, and okay, this whole vampire theory his coworkers fed him feels a bit more believable. (The tiniest shred, because vampires aren’t real and his coworkers are asshole, but yeah.)

Michael keeps his hands to himself as he follows the faint sound of noise coming from the floor below. Takes the stairs slow because it would suck to fall and break his neck after everything else that’s happened, and finds himself in the kitchen.

Big spacious thing that’s meant for a whole staff toiling away to cook meals and the like. Modern appliances here and there to take their place and a scuffed up table and a couple of chairs at one end by the pantry that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the furniture Michael’s seen.

The guy is muttering to himself as he fusses with a coffeemaker on the counter, other appliances scattered around and looking frazzled.

Michael doesn’t blame him, because complete stranger showing up in the middle of the night like Michael had and just. 

Yeah.

“Hey,” Michael says, and winces when he startles the poor bastard. “Sorry to barge in on you like this.”

The guy turns around to stare at Michael.

“What?”

Michael shrugs, plucking at his borrowed clothes.

“I mean,” he says. “In hindsight I should have stuck it out in my car, but it died next to the creek down the road and I was worried about flooding, so you know. Sorry for bothering you.”

He doesn’t know if the guy is just not keen on people or what, but having the pizza guy show up like an idiot like this can’t be a fun experience for him. 

“Uh,” the guy says again. “Jesus, no. The damn creek floods every time it rains. With a storm like this it would have been, uh. Bad. Real bad for you if you'd stayed with your car.”

Huh. Okay, so maybe Michael did make a good choice there.

They stare at each other for a moment longer before Michael remembers his manners, and sticks his hand out. Still cold as shit even after the hot shower, but in working order again and everything.

“I’m Michael by the way,” he says, feeling like an even bigger idiot. “Nice to meet you?”

He’s not sure about the protocol here, but figures introducing himself can’t hurt.

The guy tips his head to the side, slight frown on his face giving way to his bemused little smile as he shakes Michael's hand.

“Ryan,” he says, chuckling a little at how awkward this whole situation is. “I’m Ryan.”

========

Ryan sits Michael down with a cup of hot coffee and containers of creamer and sugar and rattles around what sounds like it’s going to be soup going from his muttering. 

The nice part is that he checks with Michael first to make sure he doesn’t have any allergies or other diet restrictions before he does. Means no surprise dairy to worry about and Michael sips his coffee as he watches.

Ryan’s real comfortable with the knives and other pointy kitchen tools and gadgets he’s using. He’s more intent on killing the hell out of vegetables and a rotisserie chickens he pulls out of the fridge rather than Michael, so that’s one less thing to worry about. (For now.)

Interestingly he puts garlic in with the onions, which is another point for him _not_ being a vampire, or maybe the myths and legends surrounding vampires are wrong on that front. 

Every so often he’ll remember he’s not alone and shoot Michael these sheepish little looks like he’s aware he looks like a lunatic, but it’s not like Michael can judge, so.

“How did you get stuck out here anyway?” Ryan asks, dropping herbs of some sort into the pot on the stove. 

Michael shrugs, because the reasons are many.

“Bad luck,” he says simply. “A fuck-ton of it.”

Ryan turns to look at him, corner of his mouth pulled up into this little smile that says he knows the feeling, has had his share of it too.

“Fair enough,” he says. “The landlines are out due to the storm, but you can use my cell if you need to make calls.”

Simple little offer and Michael’s grateful for it, but Ryan’s delivery was the last one of his shift and the pizza shop has to be closed up by now. Anyone he knows in the city are long asleep and there’s no point in waking them up to remind them how dumb he is. _Definitely_ no point in calling a tow service now, so.

“It can wait,” he says, and grins at the dubious look Ryan sends him.

Ryan’s a little odd, sure. Quirky, eccentric, but he doesn’t feel dangerous and Michael likes to think he’s a good judge of character. (Gavin’s an anomaly, outlier like that Spiders George asshole.)

“Okay,” Ryan says, just that simple

It goes on like that, the coffee Ryan gave him warming him up and helping to shake out lingering fuzziness from his mind. Kitchen warm and cozy and Ryan’s occasional muttering to the soup he’s making like a lunatic more amusing than alarming. (Quirky, even.)

Michael learns Ryan’s new to the area too. Moved out here a few years ago when a relative died and left the place to him, has a whole pack of said relative’s lawyers sorting out the rest and nitpicking everything he chooses to be for whatever reason.

“What?”

Ryan shrugs, another sheepish grin as he sets a steaming bowl of soup in front of Michael before serving himself.

“I’m the last surviving benefactor in the Will, and I guess I don’t measure up to their standards?” he shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but there’s this hard line to his mouth, tension in his shoulders that seems like it shouldn't be there. 

He's got the lawyers breathing down his neck, micromanaging him and the way he lives his life because there are clauses in the Will or some shit Ryan has to adhere to before the place and the rest of his inheritance is his free of strings.

Sounds exhausting as fuck and not worth the hassle, but what the hell does Michael know?

Michael snorts, because this house – mansion – reeks of money, and he can only imagine the kind of asshole who’d looks around them at all of it and think, _ah, yes, perfect_ without a shred of irony.

He might be wrong on this one, but Ryan doesn’t strike him as being one of them.

“Yeah, well,” Michael shrugs, and tries the soup Ryan made. Tasty as fuck and the guy made it from scratch for the little idiot who showed up at his door without warning, so it’s pretty incredible. “Holy shit, this is good.”

Ryan laughs, all stupid shy about it as he ducks his head and mumbles a thank you and Michael, alright, Michael isn’t in love, but he’s definitely something.

========

After they clear the dishes away and clean up the kitchen – Michael insisted on helping because he’s intruding on Ryan’s life enough – Michael goes through the stuff he brought with him.

Sets the delivery bags up to dry with Ryan’s help and tosses his poor abused phone on the kitchen table.

“Mind if I take a look?” Ryan asks, as Michael scowls at it and tries to find something he can cut from his budget to put towards a replacement for it.

“What?”

Ryan rolls his eyes and makes grabby hands for the glorified brick on his table, and Michael hands it over because fuck if he has a good reason no to.

It’s deader than dead, and only a miracle worker could salvage anything from it, but Ryan still tries.

Takes the battery out and grabs a can of compressed air or something to get as much of the water out of it as he can before shoving the rest in a bowl of uncooked rice.

“If we’re lucky it’ll still work after this,” he says when he looks back at Michael, like he didn’t just go into crisis mode over Michael's damn phone. 

“Uh, yeah Thanks?” Michael says, and laughs at himself because what the actual hell. “You seemed to know what you were doing.”

Another awkward little shrug.

“I work in IT,” he says which explains some of the stuff Michael's seen that doesn’t fit the décor. “So, you know.”

Michael doesn’t, but he just nods along.

Ryan nods too, because awkward. Drums his fingers on the kitchen table now there's nothing for him to fiddle with and the comfortable silence between them stretches thin.

“...I can show you to one of the spare bedrooms if you’re tired?” Ryan offers, with a shrug, deprecating smile, as he goes on. “Or I could give you the grand tour of the place?”

Michael considers it for a moment.

He is tired, but the combination of a shitty night and the coffee Ryan gave him have him keyed up. Not quite jittery, but sleep is going to be long in coming.

A glance at Ryan shows the guy might be a night owl (one more tick in the vampire category) and he seems…

Lonely?

He seems lonely.

Lives in this big, sprawling mansion on his own and hasn’t mentioned any friends or coworkers. And even thought Michael’s been delivering pizzas out here for about a year, this is the first time they’ve met. (Although being in IT, it’s possible Ryan works from home and has a plethora of friends he keeps in contact with online.)

Who knows.

“I mean,” Michael says. “Who in their right mind would turn down a tour of Wayne Manor?”

That gets a startled laugh out of Ryan, this big dopey grin because of course he’s that kind of nerd.

========

The place is massive, but enough there are wings to it. Ryan chatters on about this room or that, and most of it seems to be untouched.

“It’s a little big for my tastes,” Ryan says, uncomfortable about it as they leave behind yet another library full of stuffy old books and antique furniture. “I only need a few rooms to myself, but one of the terms of my inheritance is I can’t sell it, so.”

He shrugs, like he knows its not the worst thing in the world but there’s something a lot like regret there too.

Michael gets it, though.

The place is...it’s dark and gloomy and whoever lived here before seems like the kind of asshole who looked down on the little guy. Expensive everything and Michael feels wildly out of place here and he’s just the pizza guy.

Ryan in his old faded jeans and t-shirt with some kind of nerdy computer joke and awkward smile _lives_ here.

Maybe more luxurious than the cramped apartment he mentioned living in before this, but Michael doesn’t think it was a step up for the poor guy with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

Ryan points out the gardens and courtyards, although with the storm it’s hard to make anything out. He’ll take Ryan’s word for it they’re a sight to behold and all that, maybe steal a glance at them in the morning if the weather’s cleared by then.

There’s hesitation on Ryan’s part, like he’s not sure Michael will give a shit, but they end up in a huge garage.

_Huge_.

Might have been a hose stable or whatever the fuck back in the day that's been converted into a modern-ish garage at some point.

And there are a lot of cars.

Old classics that belonged to the previous owner. Pretty little sports cars a handful of less obscenely expensive cars here and there and a few limos.

As in more than one, because you can never have too many?

One that looks like it’s only a few years old and more going back decades, the kind you’d see in old movies or black and white photos.

“Jesus,” Michael says, too afraid of scathing the sleek black paint job to touch the one that looks like it’s from prohibition era. 

Ryan makes a noise of agreement, hands stuffed into his pockets as he gestures to a modest little sedan parked towards the garage doors. 

“I stick to driving mine,” he says, crooked smile on his face. “Less to worry about with the insurance that way.”

No shit. 

Wreck that and it’ll be a pain, sure, try the same with any of the others cars here and it’d be a goddamned crime.

Ryan gives Michael that crooked grin again and they head back into the mansion through the kitchen. 

Michael grabs another cup of coffee because he’s smart like that, and follows Ryan into a room he’s turning into _his_.

Obvious from the moment they set foot inside, and Michael smiles as he looks around.

The antique furniture has been moved somewhere else to be replaced with what must be Ryan’s own furniture. A few pieces are battered and well-used but look comfy as hell, and there’s a huge flat screen television mounted on a wall.

Computer setup and other shiny gadgets and tech scattered about that give the room a lived feel to it, like this is where Ryan spends a substantial amount of his time.

There’s a set of doors leading to a deck overlooking a garden, and it must get a decent amount of sunlight in the day. Not as gloomy or dark ad the rest of the place and he can see why Ryan likes it here.

Michael breaks into a grin when when he spots the gaming system Ryan has hooked up to the television, or rather gaming systems. 

“Oh, dude, sweet,” he says, looking over the games on a nearby shelf. “You play video games?”

Ryan laughs, this delighted little smile on his face when Michael looks back at him.

“Uh, yeah,” he says. “A little.”

That’s complete bullshit because there are a shit-ton of games on the shelf and a little stack of them beside one of the consoles, but sure, sure.

Ryan opens and closes his mouth a few ties before he visibly decides _fuck it_.

“Do you, uh. Want to play something?”

========

“Oh, bullshit!” Michael yells, throwing his hand up as Ryan snipes his character in the head yet again from whatever hidey spot he's in now. “Fucking, come out and fight me like a man, dipshit!”

Ryan’s side of the ouch is shaking as the man himself fucking loses it, goddamn _giggles_. 

He's got this weird little laugh most of the time, kind of croaky and adorable as shit. But then he comes out with that damn giggle of his and Michael forgets he’s supposed to be angry at the sneaky fuck who’s one of the best video game snipers Michael’s played against.

Ray’s infuriating as fuck, sure, but goddamned _Ryan_ is so fucking smug about it. 

Breaks out of that awkward shell of his to taunt Michael, comes across as some menacing creep and laughs like a lunatic when he pops Michael’s character in the head with some impossible shot.

A far cry from the awkward bumbling guy Michael met only a few hours ago and it’s kind of amazing.

“I hate you,” Michael says with no heat behind it as he waits for his character to respawn. “So much, you don’t even know.”

Ryan’s still too busy laughing to care.

========

Michael's crazy, zany adventures catch up to him and he can’t put off his exhaustion any longer.

Ryan catches him in the middle of a jaw-cracking yawn and laughs, this little huff of breath.

“I think it’s time we called it quits,” he says, eyebrow quirking when Michael tries to reassure him no, Michael's good to keep playing and another yawn catches him off guard.

“Okay, okay,” Michael agrees, cheeks heating. “You might have a point there.”

Another quiet little laugh and Michael is kind of gone on this idiot, just the tiniest bit.

Real easy on the eyes and easier to get along with, even if he is a sneaky son of a bitch when it comes to video games. Fucking loves his loopholes and goddamned smug about how good a player he is when he’s winning.

Ryan grins at him, and waits for Michael to untangle himself from the blankets and everything else before leading him to one of the spare bedrooms.

There’s an awkward moment as they stare at one another before Ryan clears his throat and scurries away wishing Michael a good night. 

Michael snorts, because talk about smooth. (Probably for the best anyway though.)

The spare room is the same ridiculous level of extravagant as the rest of the place, and Michael’s a little worried about sullying the place up with his commoner cooties, but he’s fucking tired.

Tired and sore and fuck it all anyway, because as stuffy as the room is the bed is comfortable as shit and he’s asleep before too long.

========

Morning comes too soon, Michael woken up by the literal quiet after the storm.

No rain coming down in torrents, wind battering at the mansion like a live thing. The only sounds he can hear are songbirds venturing out after the storm looking for food, and it’s weird as hell.

He’s used to the sounds of the city, always something going on. Someone making noise. Loud and obnoxious and comforting in its own way because it’s all he’s known.

This...weird as hell, sure, but not awful.

Michael stays in bed as he remembers how the hell he got here and why. Common sense comes along way too fucking late and _wow_.

Because all the ways he could have died horribly somehow not happening. Ryan turning out to be an awkward dork with a goofy smile and ridiculous laugh, and Michael's quick to shut down any further thoughts about Ryan because it’s smarter that way. (Safer, too.)

Michael gets up, taking the time to be a good guest and make his bed before he goes to the laundry room to collect his clothes. Takes a quick shower in the bathroom before he changes into them, and then he goes...it’s not exploring, just. 

Venturing.

Ryan doesn’t seem to be up yet, or maybe he’s just in another part of the mansion, and Michael ends up in the “living room” Ryan’s cobbled together. 

It's another library that’s been repurposed. Tall bookshelves lining the walls and a long table on one end close by the glass doors that open up into one of thee courtyards. Ryan’s made it fit his needs instead of the other way around.

While taking a better look at Ryan’s video game collection Michael comes across a framed photo. Ryan and another guy, both dressed like people in the Victorian era. Michael stares at it for a long, long moment, not sure what to make of it.

A formal portrait kind of thing, both of them elegantly dressed with solemn expressions on their faces and what the actual fuck?

“Oh, uh,” Ryan says appearing from nowhere. “That’s my younger brother.”

Michael turns around to see Ryan standing beside him, and look okay, _look_.

Michael knows vampires aren’t real, but Ryan’s odd, eccentric. Thinking back on what he told Michael the night before, a lot of it doesn’t add up.

Ryan flips between formal turns of phrase to more modern ones, and he’s just.

Strange.

Woefully out of touch when it comes to certain things. The guy fumbles slang and shit like that, which fine. He’s also a major dork so that could be explanation enough, _but_.

It’s nice and bright in here now, sunlight spilling in through the windows and glass doors that lead out to what looks like a beautiful garden. And Ryan, okay. Not bursting into flames or whatever the hell it is vampires are supposed to do in this situation.

“Halloween?” Michael asks, smiling as he does because that would make the most sense, wouldn’t it? Couple of dapper assholes out for a night of Halloween fun somewhere.

There’s not that much of a family resemblance between the two of them. Ryan the broader of the two, light hair and eye color, but that doesn’t mean anything in the grander scheme and all that.

Ryan shakes his head, fond little smile on his face as he reaches past Michael to pick the frame up.

“No,” he says, and doesn’t explain why the hell he has a photo like that. “It’s one of the last ones I have of us together though.”

“Uh - “

Ryan sighs, brushing his fingers over the glass like a character in an old movie.

“There was a fire,” he says, “part of the reason I moved here.”

Michael wants to ask, he really does, but he’s not sure if it would be the right choice at the moment.

The way Ryan talks could mean there’s a horrible family tragedy in his past involving his little brother, or it’s something less devastating like a simple falling out that he’d rather not dwell on. Maybe it’s just the way life goes sometimes, people falling out of contact only to reconnect at a later date.

Whichever one it is, it doesn’t feel right for Michael to go sticking his nose into things, so.

Yeah.

“Anyway,” Ryan says, setting the frame down gently and gives Michael a bright smile. “Breakfast?”

========

Ryan cooks them some omelets and brews a pot of coffee and Michael – tired and confused and getting a little irritated over it, shoves the vampire/not vampire debate away for later, because fucking _really_.

They talk about the weather, seeing as it’s a significant factor in this situation and Ryan tells him the landlines are working again. (As expected, Michael’s phone is dead as shit even with Ryan’s heroic efforts.)

Once they clear the dishes away – Michael has to insist on helping with that again, fuck’s sake – he makes a few calls.

Tells his boss he won’t be in for the day because reasons, and Ryan offers to drive him out to see if his car is still there before he calls a tow service.

“Oh, fuck. Good idea, yeah.”

Ryan doesn’t laugh at him because it’s not funny, but he totally does.

The drive out to the spot Michael’s car died on him is quiet, both of them lost in their own thoughts. 

Michael’s car is where he left it, but the creek did indeed flood. There’s water reaching almost to the car windows and no hope of getting a jump from Ryan and driving himself home now.

“Well, shit.”

No way to tell if it’s a lost cause from the insurance company’s view, but it’s not looking great for Michael, which is awesome. 

Not like he relies on the damn thing for work or anything.

========

Michael doesn’t expect to hear from Ryan again after that, figures it was a nice - if weird - thing that happened to him thanks to his luck and life in general.

He had to quit his job at the pizza shop because his car was deemed a total loss by the insurance company and what they gave him was nowhere near enough for a decent replacement. (A pizza delivery driver without a working car is worse than useless.)

Michael's working the night shift at a distribution center for a big box store. Hard, thankless work loading trucks up all night long and shitty pay, but hey, bills to pay and all that.

And then a few weeks after he ended up at Ryan’s freaking mansion, he gets a knock on his door and this _kid_ in an ill-fitting suit beaming up at him.

“Michael Jones?” he asks, even though it’s clear he knows who Michael is. Pushes past Michael into his crappy apartment and glances around before turning back to him to pop open the briefcase he’s carrying. “I’ve got an offer for you on behalf of my client.”

Michael stares at this idiot kid with his idiot smile and this look in his eyes that says he’s not walking out of Michael’s apartment until Michael hears him out.

“I’m sorry, what?” Michael asks, utterly bewildered. “Who the hell are you?”

========

Fucking _Ryan_.

========

“Jesus Christ,” Jeremy breathes, looking up at the fucking Gothic mansion Ryan calls home these days. “How the fuck didn’t I know about this place before?”

Michael doesn’t know, and he doesn’t care.

Too annoyed at Ryan and his...Ryan-ness to give much of a shit as he limbs out of Jeremy’s car. Manages not to slam the door because Jeremy is doing him a favor driving Michael out here on little notice like this.

The lawyer’s sensible hybrid car is parked under the covered awning near the garage, and Michael - 

“Michael?”

Michael reins his temper in and leans in through the passenger side window to meet Jeremy’s worried gaze.

“Magic,” he spits, because for all he knows it is, and then feels guilty at the look Jeremy gives him. All woeful sad puppy dog eyes and _Michael, please_ , because Jeremy’s a shit. “I don’t know, Jeremy. It’s not like people come out this way that often, you know?”

Jeremy cocks his head like he’s thinking about it, and okay, now is not the time.

“Thanks for driving me out here, I’ll pay you back for it later,” he promises, because they’re a long way out of town and gas is expensive these days.

Jeremy snorts, waving it off as he gestures to the mansion. “You want me to come with you?”

In case Ryan is a serial killer or something worse, and honestly, Jeremy’s a good guy. (A fucking idiot, sure, but still a good guy.)

Michael glances at the mansion. Takes in the way it’s pretty fucking intimidating against a steel gray sky, more storm clouds in the distance because the weather is miserable this time of year.

“Nah,” he says. “Thanks for the offer, but I’m good.”

Jeremy’s eyebrows shoot up, because yeah, no, this whole situation is sketchy as hell.

“Really.”

Michael shrugs. It’s hard to explain, but he’s just here to yell at Ryan. Shake some sense into him if he can, but mostly it’s the yelling thing.

Jeremy’s got work later and the lawyer can drive Michael home, no need to hang around for his ass.

“Yep,” he says, and pushes off Jeremy’s car to head inside, ignoring Jeremy as he yells after him.

========

“Michael,” Ryan says, fidgeting with the book he’s holding. Science fiction author Ryan seems to like, filling the bookshelves in the library he’s taken over. “I didn't expect to see you here again.”

Michael narrows his eyes at that, gaze flitting toward the lawyer who’s off in a corner on his phone. Big hand gestures and this note to his voice like his life is a disaster and _hahaha, no, really, I need you to do this One Thing, for the love of God_.

“No?” Michael asks, and holds up the folder of paperwork Ryan’s lawyer dropped off with him. “Weird.”

Ryan...winces, rubs a hand over his face.

“Ah,” he says. “That.”

_Yes,_ Michael thinks. _’That’ indeed._

Like Ryan’s lawyer said, it’s an offer.

A job offer. Personal assistant to the human disaster that is Ryan Haywood and various perks and benefits that would go along with said job offer.

Such as ridiculous amounts of money as payment, his own room(s) at the mansion, pick of the cars in the garage – excluding Ryan’s personal one- and a whole slew of things that most people would have to sell their souls to get.

And here Ryan is offering all of that plus some to Michael after knowing him for less than a day.

It’s suspicious as hell and while part of Michael is screeching at him at to swallow his pride and agree, the rest is...annoyed.

Because Ryan – vampire or just a run of the mill serial killer – is real fucking stupid.

For all he knows _Michael_ could be a goddamned serial killer, and here the idiot it inviting him into his home like it’s no big deal. A place in the middle of nowhere where no one would discover the body for quite some time and what the actual fuck is wrong with this idiot?

“I thought Kerry explained it to you?” Ryan says, backing up a step when Michael scowls at him. “We went over the contract several times, and while I admit he is young, he’s very thorough.”

Oh, Kerry was very clear on the terms and conditions of the contract. Bright and cheerful as he went over it in excruciating detail, yes. Answered all of Michael's questions with confidence and only faltered when Michael told him he’d need time to think it over before he’d kicked Kerry out of his apartment and stewed.

Read the damn thing over and over, going through what fine print there was with a fine-toothed comb just in case and realizing for all the legal babble there was, it was a straightforward offer.

No strings attached, and Michael was free to stay in his apartment in the city instead if he felt more comfortable with that. And he'd still have his pick of the cars and everything else. Could negotiate any terms and conditions until all parties were satisfied and honestly he shouldn’t be annoyed at how accommodating Ryan is trying to be with this, but he is.

Part of it has to do with Michael’s own stupid pride, he’s not a fucking charity case okay. More than capable of looking after himself even if it lands him in the trouble every once in a while. The rest is just.

Baffled at how stupid Ryan is.

“You don’t even know me,” Michael says, because it’s true, isn’t it? They’re virtual strangers and yet here Ryan is ready to let him into his odd little home for no reason. “Why go to so much trouble for me?”

Michael knows all about Ryan’s woes with his dead relative’s lawyers, knows Kerry works for the same legal firm. That Ryan chose him to handle his own personal legal matters and apparently that includes helping draft a job offer for Michael or whatever the hell.

Ryan fidgets, looking every which way but at Michael and otherwise stalls until he can’t any longer. 

Looks awkward as hell, sheepish and worst of all, _guilty_.

“...I like you,” he says after a long, painful moment. “And believe it or not, I don’t get a lot of company out here.”

Well, yeah. 

Creepy mansion in the middle of nowhere? No shit he doesn’t get visitors out here. Michael bets he doesn’t even get the goddamned Girl Scouts breathing down his neck when cookie season rolls around.

Ryan sighs, glancing at Kerry who is still on his phone and oblivious to the two of them.

“I know what it’s like to be in a bad place in life,” he says, makes this vague hand gesture meant to encompass that spot in his own life. “And since I have the means to help you out – or try to – I did.”

He winces again before looking up at Michael.

“I didn't think it through at the time,” he admits. “I realize it seems...sketchy.”

Among other things, yeah.

Michael sighs, because he gets it, he does.

Ryan’s a sweet guy, if a bit misguided.

“Look,” Michael says, not sure what to say next because what the hell _does_ he say next? “I’m not mad about it - “

Ryan snorts, corners of his mouth quirking.

“Shut up, I’m not,” Michael insists. “Annoyed, sure, because you’re an idiot, but I’m not _mad._ ”

He really isn’t. 

And...that sense of wounded pride is quiet now that Ryan’s explained himself. Awkward and fumbling, but his offer seems to have come from a good place. 

Michael would be a fool to turn Ryan’s offer down, let his pride get the better of him. He’s not the smartest guy out there by a long shot, might not get a better opportunity than this in his life, and -

He’s lonely too, even with people like Gavin and Jeremy and the other assholes he met since moving out here.

Ryan’s out here by himself, living somewhere he doesn’t seem all that happy to be, and here he is trying to do a good thing for some asshole he barely knows.

Michael looks at Ryan, the tired little smile on his face that looks stiff and painful, and feels guilty for being the sort of asshole he is.

The truth of the matter is Michael doesn’t want to kill himself for minimum wage working in a warehouse or whatever other shitty job he’ll land at some point. 

He’s tired of barely scraping by and while Ryan’s offer was way over the top, he can work with it. Whittle it down to something more manageable, easier to live with and not feel like he’s taking advantage of Ryan’s generosity.

Ryan must realize it, because he cocks his head as Michael starts talking.

========

Kerry left hours ago and took the amended contract with him.

There are still sections that need to be gone over, finalized before anyone sets pen to paper but overall Michael's feeling more comfortable about it.

He had to argue Ryan down on a few points because goddamn the man’s an idiot, but with Kerry on his side he got his point across. (Ryan still thinks Michael’s being the dumb one here, but honestly it’s still Ryan.)

“You’re incredibly dumb,” Michael says, listing to the storm closing in on the mansion outside, one that's bound to be another doozy. “Like. So much, it’s hard to believe anyone could be that dumb.”

Ryan sends him an annoyed look, and on that huge flat screen television of his, Michael's character goes down in a spray of blood and choked off cry.

Another goddamned headshot from fucking _nowhere._

“Oh?” Ryan says, smile full of teeth. “Is that so?”

Michael snorts because yeah, yeah. The guy’s a pro with the fucking sniper rifle but the moment Michael gets in close enough to make the damn thing irrelevant, he’s pretty fucking easy to deal with.

“Yeah,” Michael answers, flashing him a grin. “It is.”

========

Look, Michael has no clue what’s going on in his life anymore, alright?

He’s got a better job lined up for himself than anything he’s had before even if he’s not sure he’s qualified for it. An idiot of a boss who may or may not be a vampire or just a run of the mill serial killer, and somehow all of this is okay with him because Michael is also an idiot.

Michael doesn’t know what he’s doing, but Ryan’s laughing at some dumb joke he just told and the storm outside seems small and inconsequential.

The company’s not half bad, so Michael will keep on keeping on for now and deal with whatever shit comes his way the way he always does.


End file.
